Princess Lizbeth Brayshaw ducked low under the cloak in the thick brush as the Royal Guard continued to hunt for her. She could practically hear her father bellowing from her hiding spot miles from the castle.
"Bring that child back this moment before I skin all of your asses raw!" That was always his threat; but King Harold Brayshaw never did much of anything but bellow when
Lizbeth, his daughter of 18 pulled any of her stunts. She was his little Angel and with the right pout got the world, or at least the Kingdom thrown down at her feet.
Sir Jonathan Blackthorne, Knight of the Brayshaw realm and frustratingly assigned as head of the Princess' guard, sat tall on his enormous black horse and fumed at being sent out to hunt for this child who insisted on running away at least once a month beyond other things the spoiled brat got away with. The King was entertaining guests again and was unable to attend to his daughter who should be by his side. He looked towards the woods where the guards had just finished sFearching without any luck. One of the guards was riding up the hill towards him to give him the details of where they had been searching that day.
"Good afternoon Sir Jonathan." Ruben said "We've searched the woods but there is no sign of her or her horse. Perhaps this time the Princess is truly running away and not just playing her little game of hide and seek." The annoyance was thick in Ruben's voice at also being required to search for Lizbeth. "If I may say so Sir, why does he allow her to get away with this? Why does she always go unpunished?"
"I assure you Ruben, were it up to me, she would be soundly stripped of her haughty dignity." Sir Jonathan continued to stare into the woods as he spoke, his voice was acidic with his anger.
With the search party moving on, Lizbeth mounted her horse and rode off in the opposite direction, deeper into the forest. She knew they would find her eventually, they always did. It was even more amusing to see Sir Jonathan's face as; once again, she was not punished by her father. It was one of her favourite games, teasing the powerful Knight and watching him gnash his teeth to contain the words he wished to say. He was so wonderfully obedient, it was too much fun to resist. Sworn to protect her and honour her wishes, as were all the servants and subjects of her father's realm, Sir Jonathan would frequently be sent to run an errand for the Princess that really was more suited to a page or one of her maidens but repeatedly, she summoned him for some fairly degrading tasks. It did give her a chance to admire his smoldering anger, it added to his already handsome visage.
It was easily an hour of riding and Lizbeth was growing bored, usually there would have been a bit of a chase by now before eventually one of the soldiers reined her horse in and lead her; pouting dramatically back to the castle. She couldn't even see that they might be following her and considered turning back to try and tempt them in her direction when she finally heard the hooves.
Smiling to herself she continued on, trying to determine which direction the echoes were coming from. A bend in the lane brought her within sight of the men. Her gasp of surprise, and more than a little concern, was hidden beneath the sound of the men's voices and their horses' hooves. Pulling on the reins, Lizbeth stopped. These were not soldiers, they were not even average commoners. These were ruffians... Bandits and a handful of them at that.
Lizbeth was frozen, terrified for once in her life, that something might actually happen to her. She had been warned countless times that she was to remain within the castle grounds, in sight of her guards, no exceptions. Now she began to truly understand why as the bandits looked up and she saw a couple of them smile at seeing her. Even as they approached, laughing and bowing their heads as they realized who she was, Lizbeth could not move, she could not even make a sound.
"Lost, your Highness?" One jeered as he held his apple core to her horse. "Perhaps we may escort you on your ... journey, Princess."
"Uh... no... no, thank you." Lizbeth stammered. "My guard will be along." She heard the doubt and fear in her own voice and drew back on the reins, encouraging her horse to take a step back. It was far too late for any attempts of escape, the cretin had already taken a hold of her horse's bridle.
"Now Princess. I think you would appear more sympathetic to your people if you allowed us to ... escort you. Though there are none of your subjects where we're going." The men laughed around her and Lizbeth felt her blood run cold as she felt a hand on her leg.
"Do NOT Touch Me!" She screamed suddenly.
Sir Blackthorne had deliberately let his men lose track of the Princess. He knew which direction she'd gone and let her have her head start as he dismissed his men. He rode on, knowing he'd catch up to her easily, as well as knowing she'd probably be on her way home from boredom by the time he did. Jonathan knew his Princess well. He could often predict her every selfish whim before her own maids could. But as he heard his charge's scream of protest, he spurred his horse on, drawing his sword as he took the curve in the lane.
Two of the men had dragged Lizbeth from her horse by the time Jonathan appeared. She was struggling and near panic even as the men released her and backed away.
"You DARE lay your hands upon her highness, Princess Lizbeth Brayshaw?" Roared the Knight as he drew up to the group. "You wish to lose your heads for attacking the King's daughter? Because I assure you, your heads will roll if you do not take your leave of this wood and county immediately!"
"Nah, Sir... we were just offering our assistance..." The apparent leader muttered offering a phony smile to rival even Lizbeth's most manipulative simper.
Lizbeth had scurried over to her savior's horse and bolstered by Jonathan's powerful presence began to unleash a stream of lies.
"They lifted my skirts and they touched me, Jonathan! They ... they have knives and threatened my life! That's treason! KILL THEM!"
Over the protests from the men as they backed away beneath Jonathan's glare, the knight raised his voice again. "LEAVE NOW!" They did not need telling again.
Sheathing his sword as the voices and hooves died away, Jonathan looked down at his Princess and shook his head.
